PASSING NOTES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3111, 29 October 1913, Page 11

PASSING NOTES.

(From Saturday's Duly I’inm.i

Noble speeches graced our Trafalgar Day celebration. It was ever thus, 'ihe audience and the occasion make the speech. Given a great occasion and a great audience, you get a great speech; and nobody knows that better that the great speaker. Major Watson, of Invercargill,—which place of residence he might be tempted to exchange for Dunedin, “ but for the climate,” —talked like a statesman and a patriot, (not always the same thing); the Rev. Mr Slade like a philosopher with a most welcome turn for the practical. On the duty of training our youth to arms, defending our country, trusting in God and keeping our powder dry, both speakers, the soldier and the divine, were at one. I notice that Mr Slade said of Alexander the Great, who for all his greatness died young and made a bad end, that when asked in dying to whom he left h?s sprawling, world-wide dominion, he replied, “To the worthiest.” As a matter of fact the reply was “To the strongest,”, and' the grim humour of it is not to be missed. Well he knew that no one but the strongest had the ghost of a chance, -aoral worth counted for nothing ,in Alexander’s scheme of ethics—

The good old rule, the simple plan, That he shall take who has the power, And he shall keep who can. Which is not exactly as Wordsworth wrote the lines, tut ’twill serve. Alexander of Macedon was ihe greatest of Border robbers, if not the' first, and his huge accumulation of plunder went as it came —to the man that could take it, to the strongest. But here let me shake hands with Mr Slade. He proposes, and 1 second the motion, that the British people should qualify under both heads. Let us bo the worthiest and the strongest. Mark Twain’s joke would then lose point, or cease to be a joke: “Explain the British Empire? That is easy : “ The meek shall inherit the earth.’ ”

Sir Rufus Isaacs has been made Lord Chief Justice. Of course, and why not? The event was foreseen; 1 could have announced;. it prophetically a month back. “Whiter than snow” was the House of Commons pronouncement on the two Ministers, Sir Rufus Isaacs and Mr Lloyd George, in respect of the Stock Exchange gamble alleged against them; Mr .Asquith, who was himself one of the jury, has defended the verdict. This being so, what would you have? All the rest follows. If after profiting by a tip from a Government contractor Sir Rufus Isaacs was morally fit to remain Attorney-general, he is morally fit to take—if he wants it—the Attorney-general’s customary perquisite, the Chief Justiceship. Logic is logic. What now remains is that Mr Asquith, kicking himself upstairs, should take a peerage, and that Mr Lloyd George should take the Premiership. This would be equity all round, each participator in the colossal scandal rewarded according to his merit. Once again it would be shown that the tip judicious, like the quality of mercy, is twice blessed, It biesseth him that gives and him that takes.

And thus would the Marconi affair from first to last be consecrated an example for all time.

The Spectator, albeit no friend to the Government, has all along given the Government good advice on tliis matter, the kind of good advice that is never taken. I have been turning up the files. (Juno 28.) Rumours declare that Sir Rufus Isaacs is to be made Lord Chief Justice, lord Alverstono’s resignation being daily expected. This is clearly ill-founded gossip. After ail that has happened no Prime Minister could possibly fill this office in the way suggested. . . . The appointment of Sir Rufus Isaacs would cause dismay throughout the country. (August 2.) In spite of confident assertions in regard to Sir Rufus Isaacs becoming Lord Chief Justice, wo cannot believe that Mr Asquith will really make the appointment. For such a post the Prime Minister must choose a lawyer who has shown a high sense of delicacy and discretion and of what is becoming in the holder ol a great trust, and not

one who, however leniently we may judge his actions, must clearly be held to have displayed the very reverse of these qualities. Hut the Spectator had already remarked (May 10) that “ unless Mr Lloyd George and Sir Rufus Isaacs hang separately the Cabinet will all hang together. Which is only another way of saying that logic is logic. Left unhanged, the two Ministers were left for promotion; and in their claim to office with other good things they and their colleagues hang together at this moment, thick as thieves. there is another sense in which they will yet hang together, and for that event the Spectator lives and hopes. My own politics, I confess, are of the same complexion.

With a view of showing unabated confidence in airships, the Hansa was ordered to fly over the scene of the cluster, which was done amid the loud cheers of the people. Which is like the schoolboy in the churchyard—

Whistling aloud to keep his c-ouragc up. But according to a later cable this mood has passed. “The Zeppelin enterprise is on the verge of collapse; it has many enemies, and the Government’s confidence is declining.” There would be no loss to mankind if it declined altogether, and along with it the whole air-ship business, its art and mystery. The world will be no happier when men have learned to fly. Mr Buskin was of opinion that the world was no happier for railways; and I lerily believe that Mr Ruskin was right. Compare the world of Jane Austen s novels and the world of Mr Arnold Bennett’s—the novels of the Five Towns. Clearly Jane Austen’s people are the happier people, and would be the pleasanter people to live with. Was there ever in England more desirable travelling than Mr Pickwick’s on the box of the Bath or Ipswich coach, Sam Weller in attendance? If the sum of human happiness has not been increased by railways, there seems a presumption that it will be lessened by airships. And so far, all the omens point that way.

Not time-tabled in the Leipsic centenary celebrations, but of superior interest while it lasted, was the tragi-comedy of Barnum.’s lions. Hardened to cable incredibilities, 1 barely lifted a sceptical eyebrow at the story passed across to me over the breakfast cups: “ Listen to this: ‘At Leipsic eight lions escaped from a travelling circus when their car collided wtih a tramcar.’ ” “ That’s a likely story—eight lions in one car —all peace and harmony —going through the streets of Leipsic—and colliding with a tramcar! Above all othercars, why should a car full of lions do that ?” “ Well it did. ‘ The crowd was panicstricken. One lion dashed' into an hotel and ascended a staircase.’ ” “Going for a bed, no doubt. People coming downstairs would meet the lion going up. It is unlucky to cross on the stairs.” ; “ ‘ The police shot five of the animals, and are hunting for the other three.’ Then this seems to be later: ‘The lions belonged to Barnum’s menagerie. The hunt was continued throughout the night. It required 500 shots to dispose . of the six that were killed.’ ” “ Looks bad for German shooting. Old soldiers, too. It is the lesson of the Balkan war over again. The Turks, you remember, were German-trained. But the Leipsic policeman, yes, 1 know him ‘ Gerade an !’—as he waves you on impatiently when you ask a direction. His joints are too stiff for a lion hunt. Six is a poor bag for 300 shots. Why didn’t the Emperor order up an army corps? Ho must have been somewhere about.” “ Then it says : ‘ The tamers captured the seventh in' an hotel, and the eighth on the top of a motor bus.’ However did it get there? The poor beast must have been making for the country.. But it was an expensive affair: ‘The damage d-ue to the hunt is estimated at £sooo’ ” “ And the whole thing an advertisement for Barnum’s, probably cheap at the price,” said I, breaking off. ‘‘The lions may have been mangy brutes that wanted shooting, and the tramcar collision a putup job.” “Is this really possible?”—asks a correspondent, handing me a newspaper abstract of certain police court proceedings ; A matter of considerable interest to the travelling public came before Mr G. Cruickehank at the Win ton Court on Monday of last week, as reported in the Record. A schoolboy was charged with carrying over the railways a parcel for some other person. It was nointed out that the lad carried a small parcel of clothes from Winton to Invercargill to his grandmother, who was' in a private hospital there It was also stated that the parents were unaware that a broach of the regulations had been committed. The magistrate said a yiassengci- could carry lewt of luggage, but not half an ounce for anyone else. A fine of 10s (costs 7s) was imposed.

Quite impossible; clean ridiculous as well. All the same it seems to have happened. 'Sometimes in court proceedings, as sometimes in Parliamentary proceedings, the thing impossible is precisely the thing to be believed. “ Credo quia impossible,” as the ancient church father remarked. In this case, the magistrate might have argued from the facts before him that as the parcel of clothes the boy was carrying to bis grandmother belonged to the boy’s family it belonged to the boy himself; wherefore —case dismissed. Perhaps, however, this natural and reasonable conclusion would have been not only fatal to the prospect of a 4 per cent, return from our i railways, but also bad in law. Then the

law itself must be bad. When the law fines a boy 10s and costs for carrying on the railway a parcel to his sick grandmother the law is-greedy; —worse, the law m an ass. In this conclusion the worthy

beak "who administered the law will at once agree with me.

Dear “ Civis,”~Were you at a concert the other night? If so. did you hear some remarks as follow ? A man supposed to be a clergyman was at it and talked half-audibly to a girl when he was not interested, to the annoyance of those near, who, however, boro it in silence. When, however, a piece came on that did interest him, and apparently did not interest others, who now talked, the parson turned round, remarking: “ Those who talk during singing ought to bo boiled in oil.” Curious remark from such a person,, wasn’t it ? This triviality may serve as a peg whereon to hang a protest. Buying a concert ticket you buy the right to hear the concert. A seat is usually thrown in; but I have been at concerts, and they of the best, where, faute de mienx, I was content to hear standing. Either way, standing or sitting, your right is the right to hear the concert, not the right to spoil the concert. Talk during the singing, and you rob not only other hearers of their right to hear but the singer of the power to sing. How can a singer be at the best when distracted by conversation in the audience? Boiling in oil may not await the offender, terrestrial justice being defective ; but there are other _ penalties. One is to be gibbeted in Parsing Notes. It is told of Liszt that once when playing before the Czar of Russia he suddenly stopped. What was wrong? The Czar was talking! “Go on," said the Czar, “I don’t mind.” “But I do,” said Liszt. Or, according to another version, his answer was, “ When the Czar speaks there should be silence.” Anyway, hfs Imperial Majesty avos snubbed. Civxs.